


Penelope's Ship Fic Folder

by lovinglydull



Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5070487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovinglydull/pseuds/lovinglydull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Penelope starts a fanfiction club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penelope's Ship Fic Folder

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably expand this in the near future but for now, take my half-drunken rambling fanfiction because I needed it out of my head.
> 
> Credit to leahazel for the original idea and quilleth for expanding upon it. Both are found on Tumblr.com. Leahazel is also on AO3 and I recommend checking out her works because she's a cool person.

The Grand Library on Vail Isle certainly lived up to its name. It stood unparallelled to all but the grandest and most prolific of libraries, bursting at the seams with knowledge of nearly every subject under the sun. By contrast, the smaller library had texts devoted to more practical subjects, such as horticulture and economics. This made it less appealing to all but a rather strict subset of scholars, and thus, much more quiet.

Penelope wasn't there to learn how to prepare a six course meal, or how to identify overgrowth of a horse's hoof. She was there because of something that would get her laughed out of court: her literary obsession with the long-late Princess Katyia.

She'd learned about Princess Katyia when she was a little girl, listening to her tutors. But, of course, she had only ever heard of Katyia's Legacy, and her accomplishments in life. So little of her life seemed to be “notable” enough to make it to the history books.

Penelope saw someone worth looking up to in Katyia. A princess wishing for calm in a growing storm. Using wit, cunning, and words to bring an end to war. She wanted, more than anything, to paint a picture of Katyia's life.

Which was where the rather hefty sheaf of parchment in her satchel came into play. Even before the Summit, she had been painting that picture, word by word. Coming to the island was a mixed blessing. Not only had she found friends and gained some confidence, but she had learned so much about Katyia, her life, her struggles, her dreams. And yet, so much was still out of her grasp, waiting for her to fill in the gaps with her quill and her imagination. So, every day, for the past two weeks, she had gone to the small, near-desolate library.

She had hoped that there wouldn't be anyone there. Fate, however, seemed to have different plans.

“No. I do not agree with this assessment of Duke Callum's motives, especially after the Third Long March and its devastating effects on both his own men and the Wellish mercenaries he had recruited.”

A man's voice. Slightly monotone. Lack of a distinct accent. Duke Lyon?

“Even good men have their failings, Lyon. Something you are rather fond of hammering on about. Callum's downfall, especially under the circumstances it seemed to take place in, seemed to be less from any selfish aim in plundering the Skaltic coast, and more to do with the storm his soldiers found themselves in. And as for facts, what about the rather ahistoric account of the Third Winter Concord?”

A warmer voice, although still somewhat distant... Lord Clarmont?

“I was taking artistic license with the Concord. But the point of outlining Callum's flaws is not for the sake of historic accuracy. It is simply artistic integrity. His flaws should be accounted if we are to present him as a compelling character.”

Penelope, by this point, was highly confused. She peeked out from the doorway, pink irises focused on the source of the noise. There they were indeed: Lyon and Clarmont both, peeking their heads over stacks of parchment and reference books. Argument slowly becoming more and more opaque.

“His flaws were outlined through the earlier chapters, but it does not make sense for greed to be among them. He paid his soldiers well, taxes were low in his lands, and he himself – if legend stands true – dressed and ate like a commoner during a time of otherwise untold opulence.”

“But he also is quoted as saying, 'many troubles in my life could have been solved with more taxes.'”

Slowly, Penelope crept into the room, being as silent as she could. The two did not notice her.

“Strange, I don't remember that quote.”

Lyon sighed, pointing towards one of the books in the pile in front of him. “The Long Marches, page 126, line 13.”

Clarmont shot Lyon a pointed look. “You mean the line made in reaction to his meeting with the Corval delegation? The line clearly made in jest?”

Lyon shook his head, frown intensifying. “No, the line is also repeated shortly before...”

That was the moment when Penelope's temporary invisibility wore off. Both of the men had now turned their attention towards her. Clarmont with a curious, neutral expression, and Lyon with a forced blank face covering up an embarrassingly obvious amount of mortification.

It was too late to simply back away. Penelope had heard too much, seen too much. At least, in her own mind she had done so. Now she had to press on, meet the challenge before her as best she could. Like a true princess.

Like Katyia, she thought.

“... Are you writing stories?”

Lyon was quick to jump onto this statement, adjusting his glasses as he spoke. “These are not simply stories. They're accounts, although romanticized, that we've compiled from history.”

Clarmont, pleasant smile drifting over his features, nodded to Penelope. “Yes, we are writing stories.”

Lyon's mouth subtly twitched at the statement.

Before the Duke could come up with a pithy remark, Penelope surged towards the table, and slammed her satchel down onto its top, startling both men. Silence reigned for a few moments in the small library.

“I-I have a few I would like to share! If you, ah, if it isn't any trouble.”

Clarmont and Lyon exchanged a glance, which seemed to stretch into the next several minutes from Penelope's point of view. Finally, the glance ended.

Lyon simply shrugged.

Clarmont, smile still stretched over his face, nodded. “Of course! We'd love to see your writings.”

And after a few hours of talking, exchanging advice, and reviewing each other's works, all three unlikely colleagues considered it a day well spent.


End file.
